


Circle, Round

by busaikko



Series: 2012 SGA Smooches [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_smooch, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's missed being friends with Nancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circle, Round

"You're looking good," Nancy says, with just enough of a pause before _good_ to let John know that wasn't what she expected. John knows he looks like he's been through a meat grinder, but he'd be dead if not for the SGC's alien medtech. The email he'd sent to Nancy last week had been sloppy because of the drugs and because all his fingers had still been broken. Now his hands are just bruised and stiff-jointed. He was finally allowed to look in a mirror the other day, and it wasn't enough to send him screaming into the night; he's told he'll be fine by next month, hardly any lasting damage.

He gives Nancy a knowing grin and nods at the visitor's chair. "Glad you made it."

She sits and drops her enormous shoulderbag onto the floor, hitching the chair closer to the bed so she can take his hand. "The non-disclosure agreement to get in here was a book two volumes thick."

John nods. "That's the short form."

Nancy leans over and kisses him on the forehead. John doesn't like that -- it feels superstitiously like a farewell kiss -- so he pulls her back and kisses her properly, on the mouth. After a moment, she returns the kiss, a firm decisive press of her lips, and then she settles into her chair, shaking her head at him and smiling.

"I'm still with Grant," she says, and John knows. That's not what this is about, but he still says, automatic, "He deserves it."

Nancy eyes him. "So I guess amnesia isn't one of your," she gestures, "health problems."

John doesn't want the conversation to go this way; he wanted to see Nancy because she used to be his friend, way back when. "I'm seeing someone now," he says. "We should all get together for a barbecue or something."

Nancy's eyebrows go up, and then he sees her make a quick survey of the infirmary, the lack of privacy, the likelihood of cameras or observers. "You guys should come visit," she says. "We have a guest room _and_ a gas grill."

She picks up her bag and starts emptying it out; John imagines it took her ages to get through security.

"Brought you some things," she says, matter-of-fact, and pulls out a tin of cookies, and John's old Star Wars pillowcase that disappeared after the divorce, and one of the new ebook readers, and a stack of DVDs and CDs, including one of _soothing ocean sounds_ for sleeping, and the picture of them dancing at Dave's wedding. "I get nostalgic about your mullet phase sometimes," Nancy says, setting the plastic frame on top of a monitor, out of John's reach. The corner of her mouth curls up, and she takes John's hand again. "I think about you. Worry, sometimes."

"Don't," John says, which is stupid, with him lying here all bandaged up. "Tell me what you've been up to."

"Okay," Nancy says, and does. She makes John laugh, and relief that she's still part of his family bubbles up, the unexpected grace of the forgiven.


End file.
